


Lost

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hermione dies and ends up lost in the Underworld seeking answers.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Andromeda Black Tonks
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> random idea. might change the title later.

Hermione woke up on the chilly and hard ground. The last things she called were bright lights and the sounds of a horn blaring. Then it was over, the light drew nearer. It was all over, and the darkness and pain consumed every essence of her being. 

The acidic air burned her lungs as she drew in a panicked breath and took in the scenery. All around her were dark mafic rocks, vents of hot steam rupted from cracks in the ground, and in the far, but not far enough, distance were rivers of lava and converged into a massive pool. It was a hellish landscape. 

It was much like the tales told to her by many religions in which she paid no heed. They simply weren’t logical. God or gods that just allowed the world to fester, to suffer, as they laid back and watched, basking in on the worship of the humans below. To have only agents, prophets, or other divine messengers to speak to the other humans to lead them in worship as the messengers seemed to thrive from the gods’ interventions while the rest were left to their own devices to suffer. Not to mention the contradictions and the various religions. They were all the same. Hogwash. Surely the gods could help everyone, they were divine beings after all. They weren’t capable or they weren’t willing, either way they weren’t worthy of the worship nor the wars humanity performed in their names. 

Hermione brushed off the ash caked on her hands and pushed back her messy brown hair. _~This can’t be real~_ she thought, ~ _I haven’t eaten. I passed out. It’s just a nightmare. It will fade._ ~ 

The air still burned her as she drew in uneven breaths. It wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t ending. It was real. This was her reality now. 

**_She was dead._**

She was in the Underworld? Hell? Land of Eternal Damnation? Hades? 

The world was void of life or unlife, she was alone. Alone in the Land of the Dead. She rose to her feet, for a better view. It was still the endless sprawling expanse. Oddly enough, She wasn’t in pain after everything, which was the only positive side to everything so far. 

Hermione, not wanting to just stand in the middle of nowhere, picked a random direction and started walking. It couldn’t all be empty hellish nothingness. The quiet was getting to her. Just the sound of her breath and the sound of superheated air rushing out vents, it made her feel alone, exposed, and vulnerable. 

Eventually, after an undetermined amount of time, Hermione saw something that looked like a path. She sprinted to it with renewed optimism. It had to lead somewhere. The path looked to stay in the same place despite her best efforts to reach it. 

The land seemed to warp as heat waves rose from the infernal ground, and darkness took over again. 

**_~Would this be the end, would this nightmare end?~_**

* * *

Hermione found herself at a magnificent ball, filled with the rich and elite of society. The orchestra played as men led their wives in a waltz. Large ball gowns swayed across the dance floor, made of the finest silks money could buy. It was the largest banquet of the year, exotie food galore. The air was alive with laughter and joy, yet she had found none. It seemed dule like all her life so far. 

She was privileged to be born to one of the most prominent families in the country, yet despite all that she was trapped. Although she never had to labor, never had to worry about her next meal, she was to be married to a noble and expected to be the Lady of the House and carry on the bloodline. Eventually, suitors came to her for her hand in marriage. She caved and accepted the least offensive man to be her husband. 

She hoped eventually she’d come to love him, but the feelings never came. He was a kind man, he never forced her to perform her ‘duties’ as a wife, he was rather laid back only asking her to accompany him to socal events such as this. By all accounts he did his best, made huge romantic gestures and doted on her constantly. He had caught her in his study, and rather than react like most of the men from the era he didn’t get angry, he didn’t patronize her nor did he condescend her intelligence. The next day, by the desk of her separate room, she had a new set of books, fresh parchment, ink pots, and a fine quill. 

The brunette found herself on the outskirts of the ballroom listening to the band play as merry people danced across the room. She was alone as her husband had excused himself to the gentleman’s room. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw a lone man walking in her direction. As she was the only person in this vicinity, she could only assume he wanted to make small talk to her or ask her for a dance. She sighed as readied herself to deal with them. 

“You look wonderful this evening,” they complimented, taking in her dress, it was a large and cumbersome thing made of blue silk, crafted by a renowned seamstress, regal and befitting a princess. 

Their husky feminine voice caught her off guard. On second inspection, they weren’t a man but a woman. _~How peculiar, their dress is.~_ The stranger had long curly dark brunette hair similar to hers but much more tamed. Sbe wore men’s clothes, a long and narrow black coat trimmed out with golden thread, and a strange yet beautiful pattern across it. 

“May I have a dance with you, dear?” She inquired, flashing a broad bright smile. 

Hermione was quietly still processing the strange sight before her. How odd (and wonderful) to her it was to see a woman acting like a man and it was strange how no one else noticed or cared. There was something odd about her, something supernatural, the way the light radiated off her. She was a frighteningly beautiful and imposing woman but was also warm and charming. 

Snapping back to reality Hermione blurted out, “Of course.” She accepted her hands and was led out to the floor where they danced in silence, taking in the music and mindlessly enjoying their time together. 

She closed her eyes and smiled as she let her partner lead her through a slow waltz. Eventually the music ended and so did their dance. “I’m glad your mood has improved,” Her partner remarked. “But I am curious, if it’s not over reaching, what made you so glum on a night as splendid such as this?” 

With those words, it snapped Hermione out of her trance. Here she was, a married woman, dancing with a stranger she didn’t even know the name of while her husband was off in a different part of the castle. Glancing at the woman she could see she greatly regretting asking her and ruining her night. 

“I-” 

“No it’s fine,” Hermione said, cutting her off before she could apologize. She shouldn’t be talking about it, but if anyone were to understand her feelings would be the woman standing across from her. “I was just thinking about my life.” She paused, looking to the other woman, who nodded. “And I feel as if I’ve wasted it by being born in this era.” Hermione stared into her soft dark brown eyes which seemed to sparkled in unknown wisdom. “I want to learn. I want to help people. I wish I lived in a society where I could help people,” she quickly confessed as the music began again and so too did their dance, but this time far more intimate. 

The woman drew her near and whispered as they danced in time with the music. “I know of a way to get all that you desire, but do you trust me?” 

Hermione nodded into the mysterious woman’s neck. She did have to ask her for her name eventually, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment with her question. 

“This will be a life changing decision. You will leave behind all that you know and all the people you hold dear. You will lose everything.” 

Although Hermione loved her husband, to a degree, she felt trapped by life and her family’s expectations of her. The woman was asking her to run away with her and she was perfectly fine with ending this chapter of her life. Hermione agreed to forsake everything she knew, just for a change and a fresh start with the woman before her. 

She stopped their dance and asked again sweetly, “Are you **_sure_** , you want to do it?” It was rather important and she didn’t want Hermione to distracted. 

“Yes, I want to.” 

“Then we have an agreement.” She announced holding out her hand to shake on it. Hermione gleefully took and shook it, binding them, and was pulled into her partner’s embrace as she breathed into her ear. 

“Excellent.” This time the voice was cold, something was wrong. Horribly so. 

Hermione jerked back, but was still caught in their embrace. A smirk replaced the warm and loving smile on her angelic face and her eyes glowed an eerie unnatural golden hue. 

The voice sneered, “Oh, you will get all you desired: a new life, the opportunity to learn and share with the world, but in the end...” The music grew loud, but Hermione could still hear the words loud and clear. “ ** _Your soul will be mine!_** ” 

* * *

Hermione woke again back in the Underworld. Something had tapped her back, poking and prodding her. She got up with a start, quickly snapping at the origin of the jabbing. 

She snached the walking staff out of the old man’s weak hands and quickly wielded it like a weapon. 

The man fell and stumbled backwards, exclaiming, “I mean no harm!” He guarded his face, expecting her to attack. “D-don’t hurt me,” he stuttered, trying to defuse the situation. 

Hermione took a more neutral stance but still readied herself just in case it was a trick. She took in the man’s disheveled appearance. He has certainly seen better days and his shredded robes. He was covered in ash, his shaggy unkempt hair blocked his eyes, his beard was a long and straggly mess. He was too thin and looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Would a similar fate befall her? 

“You aren’t _from_ around here,” he remarked, glancing her over, “at all.” She was too fresh, too chipper in this god forsaken wasteland. “Don’t make that face, what I speak is the truth. We all end up here someday. This infernal hell. This punishment for our lives. There is no end. There is no salvation. A life barren, full of regret, for eternity.” 

“There are more people here?” she asked, there wasn’t any harm in the admission of her lack of knowledge. He already knew. 

“No.” He saw her puzzled face. “Not here. Not in the barrens. There’s more people of course, but they live elsewhere, like in the grand city or the surrounding towns.” 

“There are cities?” _~Cities in hell?~_ Hermione thought. _~What an odd thing. Hell was full of suffering is it not?~_

“Yes, full of fools who just waste their lives with eternal endless, meaningless, soulless parties and revelries.” 

“And the city is where?” 

“I think you are a fool,” the Old Man said, “but it’s that way. You can’t miss it. The drunken debauchery, the sinful skinship. _Everything_.” 

He pointed down the long ash road. 

Hermione might have been in Hell, but she wasn’t planning on staying in this hellscape for long. There had to be a way out and answers to it all. Including the demon she met at that dance long ago. 


End file.
